


About Time

by devils_trap



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Genderswap, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 04:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devils_trap/pseuds/devils_trap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deanna and Sam have a snowball fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	About Time

They had pulled up in Michigan around eleven but hadn't gotten settled into the hotel until around midnight. Deanna complained about the snow on the streets, about Sam sticking her arm out the window to collect snowflakes in her palm, about the snow in the parking lot of the motel, about the snow on the Impala--she complained and complained until Samantha felt the need to choke her.

"I get it, you don't like snow," she huffed, hoisting a duffel bag of clothes up her shoulder so she could carry the smaller one of guns in her hands. After Deanna collected her own bag, still grumbling about the weather, she shut the trunk with her elbow and made for the motel room door. "For someone who brags about being able to do anything anywhere, you sure do complain a lot."

An indignant  _hmph_  was her only reply as Deanna opened the door to escape the cold.

Inside the motel room wasn't much better. It actually felt colder inside than it did out. The heater against the wall was broken, making sick noises as it attempted to produce heat but did nothing more than circulate the air.

Samantha bit back a complain of her own. She had had the window down on and off since entering Michigan, much to Deanna's dismay, and grinned proudly as she explained how the chill didn't phase her. A few extra blankets would do the job. Maybe an extra shirt and those large sweats she bought a week ago, too. Deanna had called them a waste of money but they were looking to be a sound investment right about now.

Clothing was shucked and tossed around the room. A pair of pants fell in front of the stand of the oldest television Sam had seen in years. A jacket haphazardly draped half over the arm of a chair straight from a 70's sitcom, half pooled on the floor. A bra on the lampshade between the beds. Boots tipped over at the foot of the bed. Socks near the bathroom.

Pajamas were quickly thrown on in their place, the warm sweats and a plain sweater for Sam; a pair of tight fitting boxers and an old AC/DC shirt for Deanna. Deanna quickly dove into her bed--quite possibly the fastest Sam had seen her move ever--and crawled under the blankets, still complaining about the temperature. "It's warmer where your head is," she groaned. She sat up to beat her pillow into some semblance of comfort before sinking back under the sheets. "You're lucky."

"I'm not even that much taller than you," Sam replied with a snort, fishing through her duffel for her toothbrush and toothpaste. "You're just whiny." The bathroom was tiny but clean, surprisingly enough, and the warm water of the bathtub worked perfectly. In the morning she would shower, scrub off the dirt and grime and smell of cheap diner food. But not now. Now she was going to brush her teeth and promptly sleep like a log.

"Bitch," Deanna called, flicking her off. 

Sam caught it in the mirror. "Jerk," she barked back, smiling around her toothbrush.

When she finished she tucked her toothbrush and toothpaste back in their ziplock bag. Lights off next and then blissful, beautiful sleep. 

The bed opposite hers protested as Deanna shifted onto her side in the dark. "Bought time you turned the light off," she said, smiling in the darkness. The neon sign outside flashed dully into the room, illuminating the outline of Deanna's hip under the blanket, the soft mounds of her breasts.

"Go to sleep, whinypuss," chastised Sam. 

Deanna gave a small laugh before snuggling down into the mattress, preparing for sleep. A few moments later, soft snoring sounded from over Sam's shoulder.

Though Deanna tried her patience time and time again, Sam couldn't help but love her sister. Deanna was loud, sassy and authoritative, easily taking charge of nearly any situation without having to do more than harden her voice. The cuteness factor helped, too. Short, dirty blonde hair just long enough to curl over an ear, pierced once with a silver stud that had once been a silver bullet, with large, bright green eyes surrounded by long golden eyelashes, a dusting of freckles, soft curves and a generous bust, Deanna had men and women salivating at her feet. She had watched her elder sister build suitors up, sweet talking them as they bought her drinks, romancing them into bed, only to slip out an hour or so later, gone without a trace. Countless cases had been sped up by the graceful swing of her hips. Sam couldn't even count how much money had been shaved off diner and restaurant bills because of Deanna's famous lip-bite-and-smile-sweetly routine.

Sam's features were a little different than Deanna's. Deanna was shorter and more filled out, curvaceous in a way men always said was dangerous. Sam had several inches on her sister, resting at an elegant 5'11", and was less curvaceous in the hips department, but what she lacked in hips she made up for in leg. Miles upon miles of smooth white skin, nimble enough to carry her soundlessly through an attack, appealing enough to get looks if she wore shorts. Her arms were strong and toned with long, thin fingers. Loose auburn curls instead of shimmery blonde waves, falling slightly lower than Deanna's. Eyes the color of storm clouds with flecks of red-brown around the iris. She had been told before that her eyes were wise and sad, attractive yet devastating; totally unlike the animalistic comments Deanna got wherever she went.

The only feature they remotely shared was their busts. Both decent sized C cups, although Deanna fleshed it out better. Sometimes Sam couldn't even tell that they were nearly the same size.

Sam didn't hold the difference in looks against Deanna, though. It wasn't her fault that she had gotten the more sensual looks. At least she used it to their advantage, getting the occasional discount for showing a little cleavage from under an open plaid button up and a black tank top. Sam was actually relieved that men and women weren't tripping over themselves to get into her pants like they were with Deanna. She imagined it would run her down and overwhelm her.

Not to mention her eyes were on a certain blonde that would never go for her.

Snuggled under the sheets, Sam fell asleep with a dull ache in her chest and a frown on her face.

The next morning Sam woke to her teeth chattering. If at all possible, the room got even colder. She wanted nothing more than to bury her face back in her pillows, but her bladder was screaming at her and her stomach was starting to realize that it'd been hours since she had eaten. With a groan of dismay, she untangled herself from the sheets and stumbled to the bathroom.

After relieving herself and jumping into the shower, Sam felt considerably better. The warm water was godly, though she worried about using up more than she had originally planned. Hopefully Deanna didn't want to sit and soak.

With a towel wrapped lazily around her hips, Sam stepped into the frigid bedroom and nearly shrieked when she saw Deanna was awake. The other Winchester motioned to Sam's exposed chest, smirking with a Cheshire grin. She laughed as Sam covered herself.

"You blush all over," Deanna commented, adding to Sam's mortification.

" _You_  were supposed to be asleep," she mumbled, avoiding her gaze. She should have thought that out better. Deanna slept like a rock whenever you actually wanted to wake her up, but when you attempted to be quiet and allow her to sleep she was awake before you even finished.

With a nonchalant shrug, Deanna rose from her bed, boxers discarded somewhere in the middle of the night, and waltzed over to Sam as if her panties weren't skin tight and her nipples weren't prominent through her soft t-shirt. "You even blush between your boobs," Deanna whispered, touching her lightly between them, her fingers warm even through the towel. "You save me any hot water?"

A familiar warming sensation fluttered between her thighs. Sam held her breath as the other passed, teeth sunk into her lower lip. She nodded, unable to form words, as Deanna walked past her, cracking the bathroom door and starting the shower. 

Sometimes she could swear that Deanna was testing her, flirting with her a little too obviously to see what would happen. But that was totally ludicrous in every form. Even if they weren't related, Sam wasn't the type of girl Deanna went after. Deanna liked blondes with boobs much bigger than Sam's own. Girls that wore make up and smelled girlie and didn't hunt demons on the road.  _That_  was Deanna's type.

The funk Sam found herself in lasted through discussing the broken heater with the manager, switching rooms and breakfast. Deanna managed to flirt with the manager, with the guys moving into the motel room next door and the waitress that took their order. She beamed at them with that 100 watt smile, running her tongue along those perfect teeth and toying with her lips. The waitress had actually shuddered when Deanna basically eyefucked her from across the diner. Deanna got a kick out of that. As well as a kick in the shin.

After breakfast they headed to a field an hour and a half away from the motel. Sam kept the window down most of the way there, not just to play with the snow, but mostly to block out Deanna and her too-loud music. She couldn't make heads or tails of the way Deanna played with her emotions, nor could she talk herself out of getting worked up whenever she flirted with someone else. The sting was always worse when Deanna flirted with women, and adding insult to injury, the waitress had given Deanna the receipt with her number on it. Sam wanted to ball it up, salt it and then burn it, but Deanna pocketed it with a giddy laugh and a tiny dance she made sure the waitress didn't see.

"Why're you being so doom and gloom, Sammy?" Deanna pushed her with her free hand, the other positioned on the wheel. "You haven't said anything since the motel. You jealous of me and the waitress? I can let you have the number if you want. But I gotta tell ya'...I think she's a wild one. It's all in the eyes." A flash and snap of teeth and Deanna's attention was back on the road. "Or are you raggin' or something?"

"I'm fine, De," Sam huffed back, rolling her window up some. If she kept it down any longer she was going to catch a cold, and hunting when sick was the worst. "Really, you have fun with your wild one or whatever."

She didn't notice the terse line Deanna's lips made until they were stuck in snow. 

"God damn it!" Deanna hit the wheel rapidly, hitting her knuckles against it until they turned an angry shade of red. Then she nursed them, cradling them to her chest. "I hate snow! I hate it!"

At least Sam could count on one thing to cramp Deanna's style. "We're going to have to push it. I'll get out. Put the car in reverse."

Outside the Impala, the wind was frigid and bit at Sam's neck. She pulled up the collar of her jacket, pulled on her gloves and walked around to the front of the Impala. Time to stop dwelling on Deanna and whores at diners. She needed to get them unstuck and on their way so they could get on to the next case.

And far away from that damn waitress.

Snow fell into her boots and dampened her socks as she walked around the car. Hands on either side of the hood, she began pushing and called to Deanna to try the gas. The Impala made a few unhealthy sounds, wheels spurting in the snow. Sam stopped pushing and raised an arm to shield herself from the snow it was spewing as it fishtailed.

Nothing.

Sam had to beat on the hood to get Deanna to stop. "You're gonna have to come help me push her up the road," Sam called over the wind, walking to the back. Her eyelashes were thick with snow, cheeks flushed brightly.

Deanna was complaining about the snow from the moment she stepped into it. The snow came even further up her legs than it did on Sam. When Deanna finally got to the trunk her boots were mostly full of it. Sam smirked inwardly, thinking to herself,  _You deserve it._

"Can we just hurry up and get this done?" Deanna groaned, teeth chattering.

Together they pushed the Impala up the road, past the particularly large mound of snow that had trapped the front wheels. They rested against the trunk for a moment, breathing heavily as they shook from the cold.

Deanna turned around to get back in the car when Sam came up with a way to get back at her for flirting with the waitress. She crouched down, collected a handful of snow and quickly compacted it before launching it. The snow connected with the back of Deanna's head, earning a shriek as it slid down the back of her jacket and shirts.

"Bitch!" she screamed, furiously trying to get the snow off.

"Jerk!" 

Deanna was still trying to shimmy the snow off when the second snowball connected. Straight in the face.

This meant war.

The two danced around the Impala for half an hour throwing snowballs. When they called a truce, they leaned against the hood and caught their breath. Deanna's cheeks were a rosy red and her eyes were watery from the wind, but she looked absolutely beautiful wet and covered in snow. Same as always.

"It's beautiful out here," Sam whispered dreamily, dusting off the last bit of snow. But what she really meant to say was, "You're beautiful out here."

"Too cold. Probably doesn't help that there's snow in my underwear." Deanna snorted and shook her head.

Sam looked over at her, laughing quietly, and then sobered up when she saw the faint red line of blood on Deanna's neck. "I cut you, " she said over the wind, leaning down to inspect the wound. Artificial, but angry as hell. She ghosted her fingers over the line. She wrote off the shiver Deanna gave as a response to the cold.

"You have to kiss it," Deanna replied, arms crossed over her chest. 

Sam laughed.

"Not joking. You did it. Kiss it!" Her tone was dead serious. For a moment, Sam blinked at her in confusion. When did Deanna Winchester adopt a you-did-it-you-kiss-it rule? "Sammy, you have to kiss it! What if I die because you don't?"

Panic fluttered in Sam's chest, but not because she was worried about Deanna dying if she didn't comply. If she kissed Deanna's neck to appease her, would she be able to keep herself from kissing up to her mouth? What if Deanna freaked out and left her in the middle of this field? "Deanna, I'm not kissing your cut. What are you, five? I'm not going to kiss your booboos or make you hot chocolate. You've never told me to kiss anything of yours before--except maybe your ass--and I've even punched you square in the face!"

"You have no choice. New rules. You have to! Or I'm leaving you." As proof to her statement, she jingled the car keys and gestured behind her to the Impala. "Do it now."

What if Sam just walked around her and got in the car? Deanna followed her gaze and gave her one of her famous don't-even-think-about-it glares.

 _What I'm worried about is you leaving me for good,_  Sam thought to herself.

Teeth anxiously worked over her lower lip before she sighed, resigned to kiss the wound. She leaned forward, tentative, and kissed the cut her snowball had made.

Deanna's whole body quaked. It might have been the wind, but Sam could have sworn she moaned.

When Sam lifted her head back up, Deanna's eyes were half lidded and her lips pouted. 

She couldn't resist. If Deanna left her there well then...she'd just have to walk. She and Deanna had been separated before. It hurt--God did it--but she could do it. Couldn't she? She could walk away in the snow with her tail between her legs at least knowing she tried.

She leaned in and claimed Deanna's lips without another word. Gasped herself when she felt the pressure returned.

Deanna's lips were dry and cold, but it was  _Deanna_  and Sam could have cared less about the conditions of  _anything_. She pushed herself flush against Deanna, one hand cradling her neck and the other gently pushing Deanna back until they were up against the Impala. Then she deepened the kiss, parting Deanna's lips with her tongue, and took a good, long tour of Deanna's mouth.

When she came up for air who knows how much later, her mouth tasted of pancakes and something distinctly Deanna. She licked at her lips furiously to savor the taste.

"About time," Deanna breathed.

All Sam could do was blink and cock her head to the side.

"I thought I was going to have to shove my hand in your pants so you'd get the hint." A grin spread across Deanna's face. It was beautiful and stunning, just like always. Having it turned on her full force was nearly blinding, but Sam couldn't--wouldn't--look away. "I thought I had you this morning when I touched your chest, but you went all psycho silent on me afterwards. I thought you were going to fork the waitress to death when I was flirting." She poked Sam in the chest. "I was flirting with her, yeah, but it was to get your attention. I could care less about some floozy in a diner."

With that, she claimed Sam's mouth and took charge. The kiss was harsh, teeth occasionally clashing, but Deanna couldn't help but fuel the urge to climb down Sam's throat and make herself at home. She had been sending signals for months now. They must have gotten lost on the long way up to Sam's brain. They had lost time to make up for.

Deanna broke from air this time, panting heavily, light puffs of white floating away from them.

"I guess snow is good for something," she grinned. "I think I kind of like it now."

**Author's Note:**

> Another one from [LJ](http://hierro-y-sal.livejournal.com/3520.html#cutid1).


End file.
